


Fairy business

by ylc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairies, Happy Ending, M/M, Miscommunication, Sherlock is a Brat, Some angst, but he'll see the error of his ways, some drama, there'll be some side johnlock and molrene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-17 11:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: The plan was simple: go to the human realm, find his brother, bring him back.The problem? His brother might not want to go back.





	1. An unexpected reunion

**Author's Note:**

> So, while I was going through my old docs to figure out what was what, I found this little thing. I didn’t even remember having started it, but as I read it I thought it had potential, so I polished it a little and posted it on tumblr (it wasn’t a full chapter then). Since there seemed to be some interest in it and since I have no self control whatsoever, I decided to continue it ;)  
> Enjoy!

The more time he spends in the human realm, the further convinced Sherlock is that this is his worst idea ever.

He had heard the cautionary tales, of course, although he had always believed them grossly exaggerated. He has learned he was more or less mistaken: humans aren’t dangerous, but they’re annoying, ridiculous and impossibly stupid which in turn makes them dangerous. He certainly doesn’t understand why one of his kind would spend a second more than what’s absolutely needed in this dreadful realm.

And yet, his brother has been living among humans for the past year.

His family might be a dying clan, but they are quite fond of following ancient traditions. As such, the oldest child of the clan is sent to the human realm for a quest to prove their value. Mycroft had been sent to look for some family relic; useless but show-y. Sherlock had assumed his law abiding brother would be back in less than a heartbeat, not wanting to stay with the disgusting creatures any longer than needed and yet, to his (and his clan’s) eternal surprise, Mycroft had sent the relic back with a simple note stating his decision to stay with the humans.

Which was plain crazy, of course.

It wouldn’t have mattered to him (or at least he’d have never admitted that it mattered to him), if Sherlock hadn’t turned into the clan’s heir due Mycroft’s departure. As such, he has all sort of unfortunate obligations, including, but not limited to, continuing the line and therefore marrying as soon as possible.

Luckily for him, his bride-to-be had been as reluctant to marry as himself and so she had agreed to come along on his rescue mission (he wasn’t going to brave the human realm by himself, of course. That would have been suicidal. Also, he might need help dragging his dear brother back home.)

And so here they are now, traveling in this metal… carriage of sorts, trapped among a bunch of awful smelling humans, squeezed against the door, a woman’s purse digging into Sherlock’s stomach. What do these people carry inside their bags anyway?

“Well, you’ve gotta give him points for choosing such a human infested city to settle down,” Irene comments, once they have exited that mortal trap that it’s supposed to be a safe method of transportation. “He has certainly made it hard to find him.”

“Let’s hope we’ve got it right this time around,” Sherlock murmurs as he surveys the neighborhood they’re in. “This isn’t the sort of place I would expect my brother to be hiding in.”

Irene nods thoughtfully as they climb the stairs leading to the building’s entrance. “Well, we’d better got it right since we’re running out of time. It’s just a matter of time before someone notices our absence and we get dragged back home, kicking and screaming for mercy.”

Sherlock shudders at the thought. “We could attempt to hide here.”

“Among humans? I think I’d rather be stuck as your wife.”

Sherlock makes a face. He’s not sure which option sounds more stomach turning. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. As far as we know, dear brother might be-”

“Right in front of us!” Irene exclaims cheerly as the door opens, a familiar face coming into sight. Mycroft moves to pass right next to them, not even having noticed their presence.

“Well, good afternoon, brother dear. This isn’t the reception I was expecting, but-”

Mycroft blinks, turning to face him very slowly. He looks like an animal caught in a trap and Sherlock smirks, pleased that his mission has turned into a success. “Sherlock,” Mycroft murmurs, breathless, eyes wide. “What- what are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,  _ obviously _ ,” he states, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “What are you doing here?”

Mycroft looks around, as if searching for ways to escape and Irene hurries to step into his path. The older fairy glares at her, before turning back to Sherlock. “I’m not going back,” he sentences, holding himself as tall as he is, looking like proper fairy royalty despite his  _ hideous  _ clothes.

“And why not?” Sherlock demands, coming to step closer and Mycroft hesitates once again, his hand darting to caress a silver ring on his right hand. Sherlock moves, ready to deflect an attack when he remembers they’re in the mortal realm and his brother is unlikely to use any magic in the middle of the street.

Besides, there’s no magic on the ring; none that Sherlock can detect in any case.

“Is that-” Irene asks, a mighty frown on her face and she steps closer, grabbing Mycroft’s right hand and pulling it close to her face to examine the ring. “It’s a wedding ring,” she says breathlessly and Mycroft snatchs his hand away as if he has been burned.

“What?!” Sherlock demands, all kinds of horrified. “You married a  _ mortal _ ?”

“Yes,” Mycroft hisses, glaring at them. “And now, if you excuse me, I’m going to be late for work.”

“But, but-” Sherlock tries to make sense of his brother’s words, but they just don’t make any sense and so…

Before he can gather his thoughts though, his brother has already disappeared down the street and so he turns to Irene, a look of utter disbelief on his face. “What the hell?” he demands loudly and his (officially now, he supposes) soon-to-be wife offers him a dry smile.

“I think that sums it up pretty well,” Irene states, looking somewhere between amused and horrified.

Well, damn it all.

Seems that bringing his brother home is going to be a little more complicated than he originally thought.

* * *

 

“So, what now?” Irene asks, not looking terribly bothered, absentmindedly picking on the food she has ordered. “Do we go back home?”

Sherlock scoffs, staring at his tea cup as if it held all the answers in the world. Considering his clan’s gift that might have been true once upon a time but he lacks any particular talent for foretelling although he’s very good at pretending he does have it. “Not yet,” he says, expression thoughtful. “I’d like to meet my brother’s partner first.”

Irene tilts her head, narrowing her eyes at him. “What are you planning?” she asks, her expression suspicious and her tone suggesting she’s amused.

Sherlock shrugs non committedly. “Nothing in particular,” he answers truthfully.

At least not yet.

* * *

 

Waiting outside his brother’s new home is tremendously boring and Irene’s constant complains don’t help one bit, but Sherlock is a fairy on a mission and he’s not about to let anything get in the way of his success. He’s going to bring his brother home, no matter what.

Finally, shortly after 7 o’clock, his brother turns around the block’s corner, distracted by something on the small device humans call  _ phone,  _ not paying one bit of attention to his surroundings and so missing Irene and Sherlock following him once again.

Sherlock scoffs. The human realm is definitely having a negative effect on his brother, so it’s on everyone’s best interest to bring him back to where they belong, even if he has to do it by force.

“Really, brother,” he says, startling the other fairy badly enough to make him drop his phone. “You’re getting careless.”

Mycroft narrows his eyes at him but doesn’t protest. He stares at them for a while before seemingly come to a conclusion and simply sighing dramatically before letting them in. He leads them through a narrow set of stairs that have seen better days and Sherlock scrunches his nose in displeasure, examining his brother more closely as they make their way up.

He’s dressed in typical human fashion which is, by fairy standards, plain and rather unattractive, but it suits him well. The clothes are nicely made and the material seems to be costly. Sherlock doubts his brother is struggling with money, since he probably has enough fairy gold to last him a human lifetime, but that just makes his housing’s choice more odd.

They finally arrive to the top floor and Mycroft opens the door, letting them walk in first. Irene makes a soft appreciative noise as she steps closer to the gigantic window. The view is indeed rather nice and Sherlock supposes it makes up (more or less) for the rest on the flat.

The place is old, but well taken care off. The decoration is sparse and every other superficie seems to be covered in old papers. He can tell his brother does his best to keep some semblance of order, but it seems his partner is just too messy for the chaos to be properly contained.

Nevertheless, the effect is rather charming. The place looks lived in and Sherlock suppresses a shiver as the loving vibes surrounding every bit of the flat start making his skin itch. His family has always had an affinity for sensing others’ moods, not to mention to pick up vibrations of the places and he can definitely feel the love of the people who live here.

He looks at his brother once more, one eyebrow arched and Mycroft carefully avoiding his eyes is all the confirmation he needs.

It’s puzzling, to say at least and a tad unnerving and it makes him doubt bringing Mycroft back with him is the right thing to do, but he quickly shakes that thought away. 

“I’m not going back,” Mycroft states firmly, closing the door after himself.

Well. That remains to be seen.

* * *

 

“I swear I’m jinxed or something: I’m walking outside the office, leaving right on time  _ for once _ and out of nowhere I get a call from- Oh. Sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t know we had visitors.”

The newcomer is a man somewhere in his early thirties with streaks of grey in his hair that make him look slightly older. He has pleasant features and kind brown eyes that would make most people feel at ease in his presence right away. He smiles somewhat nervously at Irene and Sherlock and then turns to look at Mycroft expectantly, expression curious. “Friends from work?” he asks, when Mycroft fails to say a word.

“Hardly,” Sherlock says with a roll of eyes and the man’s smile remains, despite the fact he’s evidently concerned now.

“Gregory, this is Sherlock,” Mycroft introduces him finally. “He’s my brother.”

A tense silence follows, which suggests  _ Gregory _ didn’t know a brother existed. “Oh. That’s… umm… nice to meet you,” the human says, extending his hand for Sherlock to shake. He considers refusing to, but quickly decides it might be in his best interest to play  _ nice _ .

“I’m Irene,” the female hurries to introduce herself, staring at the man appreciatively, prompting a blush from him. “I’m Sherlock’s fiancée.”

Sherlock scowls at her, but doesn’t protest. He supposes she is, at least for now. 

“Oh,” Mycroft’s partner says, looking between them, his confusion evident in his face. “I’m sorry, I just… I thought you said you didn’t have any family left?”

“Well, Mummy and Father will certainly disown him when they learn he has married a mortal.”

“Sherlock!”

“Eh… what?”

Sherlock looks between his brother and his apparent brother-in-law, before a smile starts creeping to his lips. “You haven’t told him, have you?” he asks and Mycroft averts his eyes.

“Told me what?”

“Get out,” Mycroft says, his tone vibrating with suppressed anger and Sherlock has enough survival instinct to know when not to provoke his brother further. 

“This conversation isn’t over,” he warns, grabbing Irene by the wrist and pulling her towards the door. “We’ll be back.”

“Lovely to meet you!” Irene yells before being dragged downstairs and she giggles when Sherlock glares at her, amused beyond words.

Sherlock can’t help smiling then too.

Not everything is as lost as he thought.

* * *

 

“So, what’s the plan?” Irene asks once they’re back to their rented room, lounging on the bed as a queen from ancient times.

“Isn’t it against the Rules to marry a mortal without revealing one’s true nature?”

Irene hums, considering that. “It’s been a while since I read the Book. It’s not like humans and fairies interact much any longer,” he says, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “But I seem to remember something like that.”

Sherlock waves a hand dismissively. “So, if my brother neglected to inform his husband he was marrying a fairy…”

“The marriage would be null and void,” Irene finishes for him, her expression morphing to a serious one. “Sherlock, are you sure… do you really want to do that?” she asks, sitting up straight, biting her lip. “I mean… I’m not eager to marry you, you know that, but back in the flat… didn’t you feel-?”

Sherlock turns to flee the room then, ignoring Irene’s calls to come back.

Of course he felt it.

But it changes nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> As the tags say, Sherlock is a brat, but he’ll see the error of his ways and he’ll end being a good brother, I promise! I do love writing the Holmes brothers and I don’t really enjoy writing them being at odds with each other so… :P  
> I don’t think this will be overly long, but I guess it’ll depend on how the next chapters go. Also, I need to start working on my FTH’s work, so… there’s that ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?  
> 


	2. Omitted truths

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter. I’m a bit unconvinced about the convenience of mixing POVs, but I really wanted us to see both Mycroft and Greg’s perspectives so… well. I hope it works ;)  
> Enjoy!

“So… brother, huh? Care to explain?”

After his brother left, Mycroft had expected his husband to demand an explanation right away, but as usual, Gregory had surprised him by doing the least expected thing and changing the subject to something trivial and offering to cook dinner, probably sensing Mycroft’s reluctance to speak of the subject. He had been thankful, of course, but he knew questions would be asked sooner or later.

That doesn’t mean he had an answer ready, though.

“I…” he begins and then bites his lip, considering his next words. A proper fairy never lies, but they sure as hell omit facts, exaggerate and deflect as needed and while Mycroft supposes he can no longer call himself a proper fairy, he does know a thing or two about avoiding the truth. “I honestly didn’t expect to see him ever again.”

Gregory nods thoughtfully. “Why?”

Mycroft chews his food very slowly to buy himself some time to answer, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by his partner. “Because when I met you, I decided I wasn’t going to go back ever again. I knew my parents would shun me for such decision and I thought… I didn’t think Sherlock would care enough to come looking for me.”

Again, his partner nods thoughtfully and guilt curls in his gut for deliberately keeping things from this wonderful man that always accepts his half assed responses without question. “You weren’t happy to see him?”

Mycroft considers this, staring at his wine glass thoughtfully, staring at the several futures he can see, depending on how this conversation goes. Humans might think foresight is a gift, but he knows it’s a curse. “Yes and no. I… I missed him,” he confesses quietly and that’s the first whole truth he has spoken in this whole conversation. “We’re not particularly close but I always… he’s my baby brother.”

Gregory smiles, his smile soft and warm and Mycroft’s heart skips a beat as it usually does when his husband smiles at him like that. “But you’re worried that… what? It seems to me you were pretty resigned to not talking to your parents ever again, so I don’t see-”

“It’s complicated,” Mycroft interrupts, much more harshly than he intended and his partner stares at him, no doubt hurt by his tone. “I’m sorry. I just… Sherlock’s visit isn’t… I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Gregory watches him in silence, his head tilted to the side as he considers his words. Mycroft can tell he wants to ask more questions, demand a proper explanation, but his husband is a good man above all else and he’s all for respecting Mycroft’s boundaries, even if half of the time he doesn’t understand the need for such secrecy.

He’s entirely too good for him and Mycroft could never hope to actually deserve him, but he’s unwilling to lose him.

Sherlock’s visit changes nothing.

He’s not giving his husband up for the world.

* * *

 

Mycroft hadn’t intended to stay in the human realm. 

He honestly hadn’t. He might not have been happy back home and he might have found his parents’ expectations overwhelming and nerve wracking, but he was all too aware of his many duties as a clan’s heir and he had made his peace with his lot in life long ago, so while unhappy, he was resigned to his fate.

And then he had met Gregory. 

Suddenly, every obligation he ever felt to his family and clan seemed unimportant, or at least less important than staying with this wonderful sweet perfect man. He had always thought love at first sight was the sort of thing that just happened in children stories and yet, the moment he had laid eyes on the human, he had been utterly besotted.

He couldn’t go back. No matter what, he simply couldn’t turn his back on the best thing that had ever happened to him. He knew he needed to tell Gregory the truth, explain where he came from and more importantly  _ what _ he was, but he found himself incapable of saying a word: he very much doubted the mortal would reject him if he told him the truth, but at the same time he was too scared to risk it and so he had kept quiet, invented a whole new identity for himself and hoped for the best.

He should have known his past would catch up with him eventually.

No one can outrun the truth.

* * *

 

The thing about Mycroft is that if you push too hard, he’ll bolt. Greg has known this from the very beginning of their association; his now-husband was always terribly secretive. He always got the impression he was running from something, although he had no clue from what and now that the mysterious brother has showed up, Greg is further convinced there’s something his husband isn’t telling him.

Or several somethings, probably.

He thinks the idea should trouble him more, but it really doesn’t. He’s concerned, of course, but for Mycroft’s sake, not his. Short from his husband turning out to be a serial murderer, there’s nothing in this world that could make him love him any less.

Their relationship had moved way too fast, as his friends and coworkers were fond of reminding him whenever he was in a bad mood after a discussion with Mycroft, but it just had felt so  _ right _ . Greg had been briefly engaged in his early twenties, but his fiancée had grown resentful of his long hours and his tendency to always put work first, so they had splitted up before they got around setting a date for the marriage. Afterwards, Greg had been too disappointed on love to try again and besides, he knew that his job would always come first, so he had thought that might be indeed unfair on a partner.

And then he had met Mycroft. In all truth, their first meeting had been as far from romantic as it could possibly be, if you consider they met at a crime scene: Mycroft looked badly shaken after witnessing a near-murder and Greg told himself he was just being a nice police officer when he offered to buy him a drink to calm his nerves. In truth, he had been immediately attracted to the handsome witness and having felt a pull he hadn’t felt in what felt like ages, he was more than a little thrilled when Mycroft had said yes.

Mycroft was funny and sweet and smart and terribly self conscious. He always seemed surprised when Greg said something nice about him, blushing an adorable shade of red that Greg could never get enough of. After that fatidic night they met for lunch nearly every day and even when Greg was super busy at work, he made time to at least send him a text to ask about his day. In many ways, it felt like being a teenager once more: overly eager and not caring one bit about it.

And so the marriage proposal, while somewhat rushed, hadn’t really taken Greg by surprise. He had figured very early on he was in for the long haul and since Mycroft seemed to think the same thing, why wait?

He had known there were things Mycroft wasn’t telling him, but he had always thought that if it was something terribly important, it’d come up sooner or later. He didn’t mind the secrecy and he respected Mycroft’s wish to keep some things private and while nearly all his friends had pointed out that couldn’t possibly be healthy for a relationship, Greg decided to ignore them. Considering everyone was either single or divorced, he really didn’t think they had any leg to stand on.

He bites his lip, watching his husband frown in his sleep. It’s quite evident he’s upset about their visitors and Greg wishes there was something he could do to ease his mind, but there’s nothing he can do if Mycroft won’t talk to him.

He sighs, leaning to press a quick kiss to his husband’s forehead and smiles to himself when his partner’s frown smooths down. He loves him so and he wishes he would tell him what’s bothering him, but he knows all he can do is try to be patient and be there for Mycroft when he’s ready to talk.

Something tells him though, it’s going to be a long wait.

* * *

 

“Good morning, Greg,” John greets politely, not looking up from the samples he’s examining under the microscope. “Molly is just finishing your toxicologic tests; she’ll be here any minute.”

Greg hums, leaning against one of the examination tables, picking up a scalpel and toying with it absentmindedly, his mind still somewhat fixated on last night’s encounter.

“Alright, spill it,” John says, abandoning his work in favor of looking directly at Greg. “What’s wrong with you now?”

“Nothing,” Greg replies and cringes at how defensive he sounds. John arches an eyebrow, evidently unconvinced and Greg sighs. “I just… umm…” he gestures vaguely, unsure of how to word his concerns. 

“Does it have to do with Mycroft?” John asks, crossing his arms over his chest and Greg tries to keep himself from scowling. He suspects that John, as all his other friends, has always been waiting for Greg to show up one day brokenhearted and inform things with Mycroft have blown up and they’re getting a divorce. One doesn’t work at the serious crimes’ division without growing a bit cynical and so no one has really bought into this happily ever after Greg has seemingly gotten.

He’s not entirely sure how he feels about that. “Yes,” he says finally, because he knows John won’t simply let the matter go. “Mycroft’s brother visited last night.”

John frowns, “I thought Mycroft didn’t have any family?”

Greg shrugs. “My thoughts, exactly. And when I said as much, his brother said that their parents are probably going to disown Mycroft when they find out he married a  _ mortal _ -”

“He called you a mortal?” John asks, his frown deepening. “Talk about self absorbed rich  blokes.”

“John-”

“I mean, we all knew your husband was ridiculously rich, even if he never said as much and really, it’s a miracle you convinced him to live in that horrible flat of yours when it’s evident he’s used to fancy mansions-”

“John-”

“But if his family is the kind of people that think of us, the rest of humanity, as simple mortals-”

“John!” Greg interrupts sharply, glaring now. “Even if his family are those kind of insufferable assholes… Mycroft’s not like that.”

John doesn’t look fully convinced, but he doesn’t argue. Greg holds back a pout, not wanting to look childish. “Well, alright, the brother is a right git, so what?”

“It’s… I don’t know. I understand he might have known his parents would never want to see him again after marrying me, but I don’t understand why  _ he didn’t say so _ . Saying he had no family left… it’s… I don’t know…”

John hums. “Well, as I’ve said a million times before, you should have waited longer before marrying him.”

“John-”

“All I’m saying-”

“How many of your partners have you told them about Harry, huh?”

“That’s different,” John interrupts, quickly growing defensive as he usually does when the subject of his strained sister comes up. “I wasn’t planning on marrying any of them! But if I had… I would have told them. There are things you can’t keep from your spouse.”

“Well, on principle, yes, but-”

“Greg,” John interrupts, tone deadly serious. “He asked you to marry him after  _ a month  _ of knowing you. You hadn’t been actually dating until a week before that. How didn’t that strike you as odd?”

Greg shrugs non committedly, not really wanting to defend his choices to his friend. “I loved him. He loved me. Why did we need to wait?”

“Because that’s not how relationships work! You knew next to nothing about him and, as far as I know, that hasn’t really changed. You say he’s a private person, but he’s your fucking husband Greg! He shouldn’t be keeping things from you.”

Greg straightens his shoulders on instinct, ready for a fight. He and John have been friends for a long while, but he can’t help getting all defensive when they’re discussing his marriage. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

“Greg,” John says, sounding sad and defeated. “I’m your friend. I’m just worried about you.”

“He’s good to me.  _ Real  _ good. And we’re in love and we’re happy, so why should anything else matter?”

John sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Because I fear one day you’re going to wake up and realize all this secrecy has become too much for you to bear. How can you love someone you don’t really know? How can you trust him?”

Greg takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down. He hates arguing with John and he hates it more when the doctor makes some good points.

Before he can answer, the lab’s door opens and Molly comes in, bringing with her a couple of files. She blinks when she notices the tension between the two men and she bites her lip nervously. “Everything alright?” she asks, putting on a brave smile and Greg forces himself to smile back.

“Yes, fine,” he answers, stepping closer to her, ignoring John’s pointed look. “Are those mine?”

“Oh, yes! I… umm… are you sure you’re alright?” Molly is entirely too nice for her own good and she worries about everyone but her. Greg smiles a little more honestly, taking the files from her and squeezing her shoulder affectionately.

“Yes, Molly, thank you. I’ll see you guys around, alright?”

“Alright,” Molly agrees, her eyes shining with concern, somehow communicating that she’s here for him if he needs someone to talk to. He has known Molly longer than John and she’s far more sympathetic than him, so he guesses he might take her up on her offer eventually.

But not right now. Right now, he thinks, he has more important things to focus on, namely his actual work.

He’ll worry about Mycroft and all his secrets later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I must say I wasn’t planning on this turning very angsty, but I’ve come to realize that’s kind of difficult considering all the things Mycroft is hiding and that couldn’t possibly end as well as I was originally planning :P Being a very secretive person myself, I guess I just didn’t think much of how that could impact a relationship so… well. I’ll try to keep it on the light side though! ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!


	3. The Rules

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! I had some trouble deciding how to end up, but I figured this worked well enough, even if it’s a little on the dramatic side :P  
> Also I feel I should clarify the Elizabeth Sherlock and Irene are going to talk is Lady Smallwood, but I do know there’s some controversy in which is here actual name and I thought that might be confusing, hence the need to clarify before we begin :P  
> Enjoy!

“Married.”

Elizabeth face is perfectly blank, but her hands keep twitching. Irene looks at Sherlock, one delicate eyebrow arched, her eyes seemingly saying _this was a bad idea._

She’s probably right, of course, as usual, which means she’ll be insufferable about it. They technically could have gone to any other fairy law expert for consultation, but Sherlock had thought asking Elizabeth might be for the best. She was as far from impartial as possible, having once had _personal_ interest on Mycroft and so more likely to help with the marriage dissolution.

It’s probably all kinds of wrong and unfair, but he keeps reminding himself it _needs_ to be done.

“Married,” Elizabeth repeats, her voice sounding far away and Sherlock scrunches his nose, thinking he might have miscalculated. Getting an expert on fairy law was absolutely necessary for this phase of his brilliant plan to bring his brother home, but maybe he should have listened to Irene and gone to _literally anyone else_.

“Goddess,” Elizabeth murmurs, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Are you quite sure about it?”

“They were both wearing rings and I just got a passing look into the master bedroom, but it was quite evident the marriage has been _consummated_ several times,” Irene states, smirking at Elizabeth’s horrified look. “We didn’t see the marriage certificate, of course, but there was a wedding picture.”

Sherlock nods along. He didn’t get a glance into the master bedroom, but he knows he can trust Irene’s observations. “Married,” Elizabeth says once more, biting her lip rather harshly. “To a mortal.”

“Yes, we’ve already established that,” Sherlock says, his impatience getting the best of him. “What we want to know is whether or not the marriage is actually valid, considering his spouse doesn’t know he’s a fairy.”

The relationship between the fairy and human realm is so strained nowadays that most people would call it entirely non existent. So while it’s still mandatory for all fae children to learn the Rules at school and every household has at least one copy of the Book, most fairies have entirely forgotten about them by the time they reach their maturity.

Sherlock is, sadly, no exception. He has near perfect memory of the things that he considers of importance, but since he never had any interest in mortals, the Rules weren't something he thought he needed to concern himself with.

Hence the need to consult a legal expert, but he clearly could have chosen a better one.

Irene catches his eye then and her expression seems to say _I told you so._

“Technically, no,” Elizabeth says, finally providing some useful information and Sherlock ignores the flash of guilt he feels at the thought of ending his brother’s seemingly happy marriage. “But it could be.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Sherlock demands, exasperated and Irene places a hand over his wrist, squeezing lightly in warning. The younger fairy huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, glaring at both females.

Elizabeth huffs, expression thoughtful. “Our laws state that for a marriage between a mortal and a fairy to be considered undisovalve, the human must be informed of the true nature of their partner. Before that, the marriage as such is valid, but not binding which means the fairy is not, by our standards, claimed. For it to be binding and therefore considered oficial in the fairy realm, the human must be informed they married a fairy and then they can choose whether or not to ask for a dissolution, since they often consider our marriages a little too…” She gestures vaguely, expression disdainful. “Well, too restricting.”

Sherlock bites his lip, uncertain. “So… there’s nothing to be done?”

“Well… since your brother hasn’t been officially claimed, his engagement to Irene here is still perfectly valid by fairy law. Therefore Irene or her parents can demand him to come back at any given moment to fulfill his responsibility to the clan.”

Irene blinks. “But… I thought… since Mycroft said he wasn’t coming back, isn’t Sherlock the new clan’s heir?”

“No,” Elizabeth replies simply and elaborates after noticing her companions matching looks of bafflement. “The fact that a fairy decides they want to live among humans changes absolutely nothing in terms of their responsibilities, _unless_ they get claimed by a human. When Mycroft decided to stay there, the most logical assumption to be made was that he had been claimed and if you hadn’t gone looking for him and found out the truth, Sherlock would have indeed been declared clan’s heir, but now… well. He must either confess the truth to his spouse and hope for his acceptance or he must eventually come back to fulfill his duties.”

Guilt is eating Sherlock’s insides now, but he soldiers on. “We should probably relay this information to him.”

“Oh, he must know,” Elizabeth declares, waving a hand dismissively. “He’s way too smart not to. But he must have been hoping no one would go looking for him.” She leans back on her seat, a small smile playing on her lips. “So, when are we leaving?”

Sherlock and Irene share a concerned look. “Uh… what?” Sherlock asks, now seriously questioning the wisdom of his plan.

“Now that the matter’s been brought to the attention of a council member,” she explains, gesturing at herself with a dramatic air of self importance that makes Sherlock cringe inwardly, “it’s required by law that there are at least 2 witnesses to the confession, neither of which can be a family member. Since Irene hasn’t married him just yet, she doesn’t count as family member but you do, Sherlock dear, and really, I just want to see how this plays out, so...”

Irene is glaring once again and Sherlock gulps nervously.

Dear god, what has he gotten himself (and his brother, he supposes) into?

* * *

 

Mycroft is sitting at the living room when they appear inside the flat, seemingly having been waiting for them. He arches an eyebrow at the sight of Elizabeth, but doesn’t comment and gestures for them to sit down, looking terribly resigned.

Sherlock sits on the opposite side of the couch and Irene hurries to squeeze herself between them, evidently avoiding to share the much more spacious couch with Elizabeth. As far as he knows, Irene has no particular feelings for Elizabeth, but the other fairy seems to dislike her greatly. It’s not Irene’s fault her parents managed to secure an engagement with the heir of the Holmes clan, but Elizabeth seems to have taken it as a personal affront, even if everyone knows nor Irene nor Mycroft actually wanted to get married to each other.

Elizabeth looks around the room, nose scrunched in displeasure at what she sees. Normally Sherlock would be looking around too, trying to gather clues about the house’s inhabitants and their habits and tastes, but right now his guilt is making his stomach twist unpleasantly and he really doesn't think he could stomach further proof of his so-called brilliant plan being actually a giant mistake.

He catches sight of the wedding picture he saw the day before but didn’t pay any attention to it, to caught up with his plan. He stares at it with more attention now and he holds back a sigh: it’s quite evident his brother was beyond happy and his partner does seem ridiculously content too.

He turns his head to examine it a bit better and Irene must notice, because she offers him a sad guilty smile. It’s true they probably would have driven each other mad and, all in all, she and Mycroft are better matched (or at least they wouldn’t have ended up attempting to kill each other) but he’s beginning to think he should have attempted to endure it rather than ruin his brother’s happiness.

It’s too late for that, of course.

And so they sit to wait in silence, everyone a little lost in their own thoughts, nobody in the mood to make idle chit chat.

The time for the truth has come.

* * *

 

Somewhere around midnight the front door opens very slowly, as if the person on the other side is trying to go unnoticed. The human steps into the flat very quietly, not noticing the visitors since the lights are off and he starts tiptoeing in the direction of the bedroom.

“Gregory.” Mycroft’s voice sounds rather ominous in the dark room and the human startles, looking in the general direction of the living room.

“Jesus, love, you scared the hell out of me!” the man exclaims, searching for the light switch on the far wall. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” he continues, his back turned to them. “I’m sorry I’m so late but I got caught up with-” he finally turns around to face them and he immediately tenses, evidently unnerved by the sight that greets him. “What… umm… what’s going on?”

Mycroft sighs, standing up and stepping closer to his husband. The human relaxes right away and Sherlock tries to ignore yet another stab of guilt. “I was hoping you’d come home sooner.”

The man blinks, confused, glancing at their visitors nervously. “Darling, what’s going on?”

Mycroft reaches out to touch the human’s shoulder but seems to think better of it at the last minute and instead drops his hand to his side. His partner watches him curiously and also with great concern. “We need to talk,” Mycroft states and his husband huffs, a small smile on his lips.

“I’ve told you a hundred times before that’s the worse way to start a conversation,” he says teasingly, but there’s some undercurrent worry in his tone. “Mycroft, please talk to me,” he adds when no other words come, once more stealing a glance at their unexpected guests.

“We need to talk,” Mycroft repeats. “You might want to sit down,” he adds, gesturing at the empty seat he has just vacated and the human frowns, before shaking his head furiously.

“Talk to me,” the mortal insists, taking one of Mycroft’s hand in his. “Whatever it is, I’m here for you.”

This prompts a huff from Elizabeth and Sherlock feels dread filling his every pore.

This isn’t going to end well.

And he has no one to blame but himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> The next chapter shouldn’t take long, but we’ll see ;)  
> Thanks for reading!


	4. The truth will set you free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! I’m a little unsure of how believable the revelation feels, but hopefully it’s not too bad?  
> Enjoy!

The air in the room feels entirely too thin and Mycroft is having trouble trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. His husband is still holding his hand gingerly and a part of him wants to pull away, knowing he won’t be able to handle it if the other man is the one to pull away after he tells him the truth; another part of him refusing to let go of the comforting gesture.

“Mycroft?” Gregory whispers, stepping closer to him, seemingly having completely forgotten about their audience. He should have told Gregory this _ages_ ago or at least last night, with no one else around to witness it. Of course he always knew what the Rules said about keeping his true nature a secret from his partner, but he had been hoping-

Well. It really doesn’t matter anymore.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he murmurs, staring at their joined hands, squeezing once before letting go. “Something I should have told you a long time ago.”

Gregory tilts his head curiously but patiently waits for Mycroft to continue. “I… The thing is… I’m not human,” he manages to stutter out, cringing at how awkward he sounds.

Gregory frowns deeply. “Love, you’re not making any sense.”

Mycroft sighs, forcing himself to soldier on. “I… I’m a fairy,” he says finally and closes his eyes, not wanting to see Gregory’s reaction. There’s a brief pause in which Mycroft’s heartbeat picks up speed and then his husband lets out an amused chuckle.

“Darling, what-?”

He doesn’t believe him and of course that makes perfect sense. Before Gregory can say anything else though, Mycroft hurries to spread his wings, once more closing his eyes tightly.

“Holy crap,” Gregory whispers, sounding surprised but not repulsed and Mycroft dares to consider that a win. He opens his eyes slowly, still worried about seeing revulsion in his partner’s lovely face and relaxes minusclely when he sees no trace of anything other than curiosity and surprise.

Another round of surprised explicatives follow, but Mycroft supposes it’s normal enough. Gregory still doesn’t look angry and he dares to believe everything will be alright.

When his husband steps closer to him, he forces himself not to flinch. There’s no denying he’s somewhat scared, despite the fact that Gregory’s reaction hasn’t been negative. “May I touch them?” his partner asks, his hand hovering uncertain over the tips of his wings.

Mycroft gulps audibly. Wings are delicate body parts and it’s not common to let others touch them. Still, he trusts his husband and touching wings is a fairly common practice among courting pairs, so…

He nods rather stiffly, but Gregory doesn’t seem to really notice, his whole focus on the wings. He touches them gingerly, his fingers barely skimming over them and yet Mycroft can’t suppress a whole body shiver.

They’re delicate, yes. And also very sensitive.

From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of the other fairies doing their very best to look anywhere else. Touching another fairy’s wings is something that’s definitely not done in public in the fairy realm, but he’s not about to cut his husband’s exploration short for the sake of decency, particularly when the human won’t really understand what the fuss is about.

Gregory’s touch grows bolder, but it’s still reverent. He seems truly marveled and Mycroft can’t help to preen a little. His wings match him rather well: they’re plain and dull, just as himself.

Growing up he felt somewhat self conscious of his unattractive wings: dark wings aren’t exactly uncommon among his clan, but there’s always a spot of a much brilliant colour _somewhere_. Sherlock’s, for example, while black, have splashes of vibrant blue and green while Mycroft’s own are a washed up grey, with darker spots of grey here and there.

His eyes go to Elizabeth, remembering he felt somewhat flattered and surprised when the female showed actual interest in him despite this and so he had briefly entertained the thought of asking his parents to accept Elizabeth’s parents offer, but in the end he decided to let things simply run their course. He was completely disinterested in marriage and the children that came with it, so it made no difference to him who his parents choose for him.

“Can you actually fly with these?” Gregory asks, pulling him out of his reverie, finally making eye contact with him.

“Yes,” he replies with a small shrug. “I haven’t tried while being this size but-”

“You mean you’re not… well, no I suppose…”

“Aren’t you… angry or something?” Mycroft interrupts, because as much as he doesn’t want to hear the other man’s rejection, he also can’t handle this uncertainty any longer.

“Angry?” Gregory questions, looking honestly surprised. “No, not really. Why should I?” he asks, shrugging casually. “Surprised, yes, perhaps a little shocked and maybe it’s the shock what’s making me react so calmly, but…” He shrugs once again. “I’m a little… worried about why didn’t you tell me. I suppose I understand, on some level, but… it’s quite a big deal.”

Before Mycroft can reply, Elizabeth intervenes. “It’s a bigger deal than you think,” the female says, crossing her arms over her chest, her rapid blinking betraying her annoyance. “Fairy marriages are different from human ones.”

“Oh. Well. Yes, I suppose that makes sense, but-”

“Fairy marriages are binding,” he informs him very seriously, sparing a quick glare in Elizabeth’s direction. “We don’t… I mean… there’s no such thing as a divorce among fairies.”

Gregory locks eyes with him, a small shy smile on his lips. “I distinctly recall saying ‘ _till death do us part_ ”. Mycroft’s heart swells with affection, but he knows he needs to clarify some things.

“That’s… I mean… fairies are rather possessive of their mates. If we do this the proper way, I’ll never be able to let you go, no matter what. Before you accept-”

“Mycroft,” Gregory interrupts him, placing a hand over his lips. “There’s nothing in this universe that would make me change my mind about you. I mean… I agreed to marry you after a month of knowing you because-”

“That might have been the magic,” Elizabeth points out, earning herself another glare from Mycroft but he must admit she has a point.

Gregory is looking at the female fairy too, a mighty frown on his face. “What?” he asks and Mycroft flinches at his wary tone. “What does that mean?” he questions, turning to Mycroft for answers, something that looks an awful lot like hurt lurking in his eyes. “Did you use magic on me?”

Mycroft bites his lip, not meeting his partner’s eyes. “Not to my knowledge,” he replies, but he knows that’s not answer enough and from the corner of his eye he catches sight of Gregory’s betrayed look.

“Not to your knowledge?” his husband demands angrily. “What does that mean?”

“Humans are naturally drawn to magic and magical beings,” Sherlock explains, sounding oddly remorseful. “It’s a… a compulsion, of sorts. They can’t help themselves, they just want to be closer to the source, even if they don’t understand why.”

Gregory blinks a couple of times and Mycroft’s heart sinks to his feet. He knew that, of course, and he had suspected Gregory’s quick acceptance of his affection had been somewhat influenced by it, but-

He has done his best to suppress his magic around the human and he rather thinks he did a good job of it, but he can not completely guarantee it didn’t influence his partner’s decisions.

“Goddess,” Gregory murmurs, taking a step back, a look of surprise and slight horror on his face and Mycroft closes his eyes tightly, his heart aching in unspeakable ways. It had been going so well and now… now…

A part of him wishes Elizabeth hadn’t brought the matter up, but another part of him knows it was the right thing. Gregory deserves to know the full truth, even if that means he’s going to lose him.

“I… I’m not sure how to process that,” Gregory murmurs, looking around the room nervously. “I think…” he closes his eyes, gulping rather loudly and Mycroft’s heart breaks. “I don’t think it’s that,” he says when he opens his eyes once more, staring directly at Mycroft. “I admit that things progressed rather quickly and it’s not something I’d have normally done but I… I really don’t think it’s that.” He nods to himself, seemingly having come to a decision. “But I need time to think.”

“Of course,” Mycroft agrees, keeping his hands to his sides despite the fact he’s itching to reach out for his husband. Not everything is lost, not yet but patience is key now. “I’ll… I’ll just grab a couple of things and-”

“No,” Gregory interrupts, shaking his head. “You stay here. I… I need some space.” He bites his lip, evidently torn and finally turns around sharply, heading for the door. Mycroft forces himself to hold still, despite every nerve in his body urging him to follow and Gregory stops at the door, sparing one last look in his direction. “I’ll be back,” he promises earnestly before opening the door and leaving and Mycroft pretty much collapses on the floor, his heart beating erratically inside his chest.

He knows he can trust Gregory’s word and that’s what keeps him from sinking into utter despair, but it’s a very near thing. He feels sick in his stomach and there’s an unscratchable itch beneath his skin that’s driving him mad, but all in all, he supposes it’s not as bad as it could be.

At least not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I promise I’m not going to drag the angst on for too long and the boys will talk again soon. Greg just needs some time to sort through his feelings ;)  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought?


	5. True love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new chapter! I hope you’ll enjoy it!

Deciding where to go next is really no-brainer. He’s in no mood to listen to John’s  _ I told you so  _ and besides, it’s not like he can explain to his friend what exactly has just transpired between him and Mycroft: he’s still having trouble wrapping his mind around it and in any case, he doesn’t think he could share his troubles with anyone, even if he didn’t fear they’d think he has finally gone mad.

_ Fairies.  _ Good god. 

The trip to Molly’s house is a blur in his mind, but thankfully the woman’s house isn’t terribly far away from his. The woman seems a bit surprised at his impromptu visit and he feels rather guilty after noticing just how damn late it is, but she hurries to usher him in and reassures him she doesn’t mind.

Molly puts the kettle on and brings out a heavy blanket, placing it over the couch. Greg smiles thankfully and takes a sip of his drink, mostly because he feels like he’s freezing inside. His brain is a muddled mess of half formed thoughts and he’s in desperate need of sleep.

Molly, as he expected, doesn’t ask any questions and leaves him alone when he says he’s too tired to talk. He lies down on the slightly lumpy couch and stares at the ceiling for the longest time, trying not to think about anything and failing miserably.

He knows things are bound to change now.

He’s just not sure how.

* * *

 

“What do you mean you don’t know what happened?” John demands, tone harsh and Molly bites her lip before shrugging casually.

“I didn’t ask,” she says, for what feels like the millionth time. “He showed up, late at night, looking all pale and sickly and I just…” she waves her hands vaguely, unsure how to phrase it.

“And you didn’t think to ask?” John argues once more and the woman glares at him.

“It wasn’t the right time,” she protests. “You can not rush these things.”

“But-”

“This is exactly why Greg went to mine, despite yours being closer,” she informs him very seriously, earning herself an offended glare from John. “He’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

“I don’t like it,” John argues, going back to his work sulkily. “I never liked that husband of his.”

Molly rolls her eyes. “So you’ve said.” She goes back to her own work for a while, before an idea occurs to her. “Please don’t do anything rash,” she pleads, without turning to look at John.

“Like what? Text Greg to demand an explanation?”

“That too,” Molly says, looking at John from the corner of her eye. “But I was thinking more along the lines of going to Greg’s to  _ talk  _ to Mycroft.”

“Ah,” John says but doesn’t add anything further and Molly rolls her eyes once more.

“If Greg calls me to complain about you being mean to his husband  _ again  _ I’m going to let you deal with the fallout for once.”

“I’m never mean to his husband,” John protests quietly. “And besides, this time it does seem like he earned it.”

Molly doesn’t argue that.

She thinks that too.

* * *

 

Perhaps he did rush into the marriage.

When Mycroft had popped the question, he had briefly entertained the idea of saying “no”. Not because he didn’t want to marry him, but because he knew everyone would say it was way too soon. But then he had decided it was nobody’s business but his and he really could see himself spending the rest of his life with this man he barely knew and yet he knew deep in his bones that he was that mythical  _ one  _ so many love tales spoke off.

He had thought it’d have been foolish to refuse, because he had never doubted he and Mycroft were meant to be. Now though-

He wonders what prompted Mycroft to ask in the first place. He wonders if there was some time limit he was supposed to meet before being forced back to his own realm and he figured marrying a human was the easiest way to avoid that. But then he thinks of this last year together and realizes he’s giving his husband too little credit: he didn’t marry Greg because it was convenient, he actually wanted to spend his life with him, in this dreary realm.

And speaking of life… just how long do fairies live? Sherlock called him a  _ mortal,  _ does that mean fairies are immortal? Or do they just live longer than humans? How old is Mycroft, anyway?

He forces himself to stop that line of thought right away. It’s something to be considered, for sure, but that’s not his main problem right now. He needs to figure whether or not he married his husband because he actually wanted to or because he was magically influenced to.

He almost laughs out loud at the thought. He’s a little too old to believe in magic and yet now he knows for sure it exists. Still, the idea rings a little too odd inside his head and so he finds it nearly impossible to believe it has something to do with his decision to marry Mycroft.

Things had indeed moved forward too fast, but that had been all them, hadn’t it? They met, they fell in love, marrying was the next perfectly logical step. That’s what people in love  _ do.  _ There’s no reason to believe-

And yet, what if he’s not actually in love and just thought so because of this allure magic supposedly has on humans? What if what he thinks is love is just the need for another magic fix? Has he turned into some sort of addict without noticing?

He frowns, leaning back on his seat and staring outside the window without really seeing for a while. He called in sick and he must really look sick, because Molly didn’t even comment on his lie. So now here he is, trying to figure out whether or not he’s actually in love with his husband and what he’s going to do now.

God. What a nightmare.

He closes his eyes and tries to imagine a life without Mycroft, only to find out he really can’t. He smiles as he remembers the first time he woke up next to his husband, the utter joy he felt at the sight of his partner’s sleeping face. Surely that was real? Surely there’s no magic that could fake that feeling?

No, he thinks, as he goes through his most recent memories of their interactions. What they have is  _ real,  _ he knows it deep in his bones. Maybe the magic made him a little more reckless and he did things he wouldn’t have considered under normal circumstances but he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that if Mycroft had been perfectly  _ human _ , they would have ended up married anyway.

He smiles to himself, pleased to have come to a satisfying conclusion and he reaches for his phone, intent to call Mycroft and tell him he has figured it out and that he’s so so sorry for leaving last night, when the doorbell rings. He frowns, wondering who might be: surely all of Molly’s friends and neighbors know she’s working right now?

He puts his phone down and goes to open the door, a little curious but not overly concerned.

Somehow, after last night revelations, he’s not sure there’s anything that could surprise him anymore.

* * *

 

Greg is more than a bit surprised when he finally opens the door.

He recognizes the woman (fairy) even though they haven’t been properly introduced. Mycroft made a very vague mention about her being engaged to Sherlock, but the comment had been clipped, signaling he really  _ really  _ didn’t want to dwell on the subject. Considering how…  _ reluctant  _ he had been to speak at all after Sherlock’s first visit, Greg hadn’t pressed.

Now Irene smirks at him before pushing her way into the flat, without waiting for an invitation. The female looks around the place curiously, scrunching her nose every now and then as she examines some of Molly’s more… eh…  _ curious _ articles scattered around.

“So, who’s this girl you’re staying with and should we be concerned?” Irene asks, finally taking a seat on the lumpy couch, looking completely incongruous in her fancy dress that probably costs more than what Greg makes in a month. 

He scowls at her. “Molly is my friend,” he states firmly. “What are you doing here?” he demands, because he knows his husband and he knows that Mycroft respects his wishes far too much to send someone to check on him when he said he needed time.

“Oh, I’m not here on Mycroft’s behalf,” the fairy says, as if having read his mind and Greg wonders if she actually can. “Not exactly. Actual mind reading is rather tricky, but my clan’s gift allows me to get a general sense of your thoughts and feelings.”

Greg nods hesitantly, unsure about what to say. Irene’s smirk widens and she leans back on the couch, still looking out of place. “What are you doing here, then?”

“Oh, well. Just because Mycroft didn’t ask me to come it doesn’t mean I’m not here for him.” She smiles innocently as Greg rolls his eyes. “Sherlock is so guilt ridden he’s currently trying to be a good brother and actually  _ support _ Mycroft, so I thought I’d play the good dotting fianceé and help.”

Another hesitant nod. “Are you… umm… I just… you and Sherlock-”

“Well, I’ve now been informed I’m technically still engaged to Mycroft,” she interrupts him, amusement dancing in her eyes as Greg’s jaw hits the floor. “If you don’t take him back, I suppose we’ll be getting married as soon as we go back.”

Jealousy flares inside Greg, the mere idea of his Mycroft-

He glares at the woman, realizing that was exactly her intention. “There’s no need-”

“Arranged marriages is the fairy way,” she states calmly, her nose briefly scrunching in displeasure. “Our parents arranged it when we were barely a century old. I… well, I don’t like him per se and he certainly doesn’t like me  _ at all  _ but we’re… well. We probably will make a couple of pretty kids and stay out of each other's way, so all in all, the best thing you can ask from a marriage.”

Greg frowns deeply. “That sounds… terrible, really.”

Irene scoffs. “Love is a thing of legends, Mr. Lestrade,” she says, a small sad smile on her lips. “Or bedtime stories. It’s something not a single fairy over 50 believes that actually exists.”

“But it does,” Greg argues earnestly. “At least here, it does.”

She laughs, a short somewhat bitter sound that makes Greg flinch. “Not really. But it’s cute, you humans insisting on believing in it, despite all the proof on the contrary-”

“I love Mycroft,” he announces firmly, because it’s the truth, puffing out his chest a little. “And he loves me too.”

Irene watches him in silence, a contemplative look on her face and then a smile starts forming on her lips. “I know,” she says, her tone soft and full of  _ something  _ Greg can’t quite describe. “When we first ran into him- I told Sherlock we shouldn’t intervene. I never…” she bites her lip, looking thoughtful. “This… feeling surrounding him. It was like nothing I had felt before. If love does exist, I believe that’s how it’d feel.” She smiles up at him, a honest smile this time although there’s something sad in her eyes. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I was actually about to text him when you showed up,” he confesses sheepishly. “I… I think the magic might have made me a bit more reckless than I normally am, but it influenced in no way my feelings.”

Irene nods, looking pleased with herself. “Alright then!” she exclaims cheerfully, standing up. “What are we waiting for?” Greg opens his mouth to answer, but just then the front door opens and he turns around to find Molly at the threshold.

“Oh. Umm. Did I interrupt something?” she asks, carefully setting the shopping bags she’s carrying on the floor. “Who’s this?” She’s looking at Irene warily, but with keen interest and the fairy offers her a slow predatory smile that prompts a blush from Molly.

Greg smiles, endeared. Poor Molly is utterly hopeless when it comes to flirting. “Molly, this is Irene. She’s…” Mycroft’s former fianceé or Mycroft’s brother’s fianceé don’t sound right, particularly not after what he has learned about fairy wedding customs. Besides, if he goes with option one, he’s not sure how his friend will take it. “A family friend of Mycroft.”

Irene chuckles. “That’s one way to call it,” she says, taking Molly’s hand in hers and kissing the top of it. “Pleased to meet you.”

Molly’s face is as red as her hair and Greg figures that’s his cue to leave. He thinks it’s rather tragic fairies don’t believe in love and while of course there’s no way to predict how this will go, he has a hunch leaving both women alone will be for the best.

“Well… I’ll be going then. Thanks for everything, Molls!”

The woman nods absentmindedly, her whole focus still on Irene, evidently rather taken with her and of course the fairy is doing her very best to keep Molly’s attention. Greg wonders briefly if he should give Molly heads up about this whole fairy and magic business, but he figures that it’d be best to see how things go before scaring the poor girl off (or having her worry about whether or not he has lost his mind.)

Besides, he has some pressing matters to attend to. Knowing Mycroft’s dramatic flare (even though he vehemently denies it exists), it’s probably wiser to hurry home.

He smiles to himself, happiness filling his every pore once again.

All is well with the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thoughts anyone?  
> I had considered making this chapter a little longer but here’s the thing: on monday begins the assessment for a promotion that I’ve been waiting for for a while and so I need to study for the first test. But I couldn’t make myself focus when there was a fanfic I could be writing instead (my priorities are somewhat skewed) and so I made I deal with myself: I’d finish this chapter and I’ll start studying. Hence the need to cut it a bit shorter than I intended ;)  
> Still, I hope you enjoyed it! On the next chapter we should be seeing what Sherlock and Mycroft are up to ;) Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought pretty please!


	6. Happily ever after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s a new (and the last) chapter! I hope you’ll enjoy it!

“I order you to cease with your dramatics immediately!”

Mycroft simply groans and buries himself deeper under the covers. Sherlock sighs dramatically, attempting to pull said covers away with little success. He’s sharply reminded of when he was just barely a couple of decades old and was feeling like being  _ contrarious _ . His brother would deal with the worst of his temper tantrums since their parents had no patience for them and Mycroft would always complain about his dramatic vein.

Oh, how the tables have been turned.

He sighs, dropping himself on the corner of the bed, running his fingers through his hair as he observes the small ball his brother has curled himself into. Guilt is eating him alive, although he’s doing his very best to ignore it. He knows now he should have left his brother well alone after seeing how happy he was with his human, even if he didn’t understand, but-

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly and he can see his brother peeking from underneath the covers. 

“It’s not your fault,” Mycroft murmurs softly back, still hiding, sounding somewhat remorseful. “I should have told Gregory the whole truth before… well, everything.”

Sherlock hums, playing with a loose thread from the covers. “He seems… reasonable. I’m sure he’ll be back eventually.” He’s not quite sure, truth to be told, but he desperately hopes that’ll be the case.

“I think that too,” Mycroft says, although he doesn’t sound convinced either. “Soon, I should think.”

Sherlock nods, staring at the far wall absentmindedly, wondering what will happen if they’re wrong. He spares a quick look in his brother’s direction and hurries to look away, not really wanting to contemplate what might happen to Mycroft if his husband decides he’s not coming back.

Oh, why couldn’t he just resign himself to his fate?

He scoffs, amused at his own thought. Now, that would have been way out of character.

And yet-

 

* * *

 

Sherlock entertains himself looking around the tiny flat. It’s liveable enough, he supposes, but far from luxurious. Mycroft’s human (Greg, he reminds himself) must have inherited it from a relative: it might be small and rather old, but it’s quite central and he doubts the human could pay for it with his cop salary. He also seems somewhat attached to it, hence why they’re still living there even though Mycroft could probably pay for a better place.

Humans are odd, he thinks. So terribly sentimental and therefore impractical. 

He can’t see himself living in a place like this and yet he must admit to himself he’s starting to contemplate staying. Not with Mycroft, evidently, since they’ll probably end up driving each other mad and besides, he and his human seem rather… eh…  _ enthusiastic  _ in their loving, considering all the evidence scattered around the flat. He scrunches his nose, thinking he now knows more about his brother’s sex life than he ever cared to learn and yet, feeling somewhat  _ happy  _ for him.

If Mycroft had informed him of his reasons for staying in the human realm, maybe he’d have let the matter rest. Marrying Irene was far from ideal, that’s for sure, but there was certainly no need to drag yet more people into his misery.

He listens to his brother snoring softly in the master bedroom, completely dead to the world. His phone has been ringing non stop for the last hour or so, but a little magic silenced it for the moment. He’s not quite sure he didn’t silence it forever, since he’s not familiar with human’s technology, but the device looks undamaged, so-

A sharp knock on the door interrupts his musings and he looks away from his examination of the kitchen’s drawers. He places the funny cooking device he has found (or at least he assumes it’s a cooking device) and heads towards the door. With any luck, it’ll be Mycroft’s human, having come to his senses and back for good.

He definitely doesn’t see the punch coming.

And maybe that’s for the best.

 

* * *

 

“Oh my god, oh my god! I’m so sorry!” the newcomer is saying, attempting to check Sherlock’s nose and the fairy keeps doing his very best to keep him at arm's length. He has no clue who this little man is, but he’s certainly not about to trust him with his well being after being punched on the nose.

“Ah, Dr. Watson. I see you’ve met my brother.”

“Brother?” the man called Watson asks, running his eyes over Sherlock’s face, a slight frown on his face. “Don’t really see the likeness,” he comments off handedly. “But I certainly feel less guilty now.”

“And why, pray tell, have you decided punching people in the face when they open the door is the polite way to proceed?” Mycroft asks, sounding vaguely amused and Sherlock throws a dark glare in his direction, making his brother smirk lightly.

“I didn’t… it’s not… what I mean is, I did warn you against breaking Greg’s heart.”

“Ah,” Mycroft murmurs, staring at the floor morosely. “Is he not coming back then?” His expression is more or less blank, but Sherlock knows his brother well and he knows he’s broken hearted himself.

The human doctor scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I haven’t talked to him,” he confesses reluctantly. “I just know what Molly told me.”

“And what did Dr. Hooper tell you?” Mycroft asks, still looking sad, but hopeful.

“Not much, truth to be told,” Watson says, glaring at nothing in particular. “Just that Greg had showed up last night, looking like death warmed over and he called in sick today. Him! Calling in sick! So I assumed things had taken a rather nasty turn for the worse and decided to pay you a visit.”

“And break my brother’s nose in the process, by the looks of it,” Mycroft comments, having stepped closer to Sherlock and examining his nose. 

“Well, I did say I’d do as much if you hurt Greg.”

“Yes, I remember,” Mycroft states, a small fond smile on his lips. “You were rather… ah…  _ explicit _ , as I recall. Gregory kept telling me you didn’t mean it, though. You were just a little concerned about us rushing things.”

“And by the looks of it, I was right,” the doctor states, crossing his arms over his chest. “You do seem to have been hiding several skeletons in your closet.”

Mycroft actually flinches at that and that makes the doctor’s frown deepen. Sherlock decides it might be time to come into his brother’s defense but when he opens his mouth to speak, he promptly realizes that’s a bad idea, considering his nose starts aching right away.

Watson sighs dramatically. “Alright, let’s check that nose,” he says, grabbing Sherlock by the arm and leading his towards the couch. “I’m really sorry about that, although based on what Greg’s told me about you, you’re just as bad as your brother.”

“I somehow doubt he said something quite like that,” the fairy argues, sitting down, examining the human through his lashes. “You’re entirely too aggressive to be a doctor, you know?”

The man chuckles softly, his fingers pressing against the bone of his nose and Sherlock hisses in pain. “I used to be an army doctor, so…” he shrugs non committedly. “Besides, now I work at the morgue, so my bedsit manner might be a little rusty.”

Sherlock allows his eyes to run over him, taking in the man’s appearance. “Pity,” he whispers mostly to himself and the doctor arches an eyebrow challengingly, making him blush profusely. 

“He thinks you’re attractive,” Mycroft comments off handedly, busy as he is examining his phone, a small smile dancing on his lips. The doctor blushes, but glares and Sherlock throws a glare in his brother’s direction too, but his expression quickly softness.

“I see your husband has come to his senses,” he points out and Watson scoffs.

“That’s debatable,” he murmurs to himself, but the fairies ignore him, Mycroft’s happiness palpable in the air. 

“Maybe we should vacate the premises,” Sherlock suggests after a beat, turning his attention back to the human. “I have the impression we won’t wish to witness the happy reunion.”

Watson makes a face and considers this for a beat. “Fine. But you’re buying me dinner.”

Sherlock arches an eyebrow, amused and from the corner of his eye he catches his brother’s smirk. Still, his attention remains on the doctor and he finally nods, trying to look like he’s making a huge sacrifice but he thinks he might miss the mark entirely.

Oh, well, nothing for it, he supposes.

If nothing else, his night promises to be interesting at the very least.

 

* * *

 

His brother and Dr. Watson have just left the flat when the door opens once more. Mycroft had been pretending to read a book by the window, but he abandons all pretense at the sight of his husband. He still looks a bit tired and gloomy, but he breaks into a smile when he sees Mycroft and the fairy relaxes.

They hurry to close the distance between them, embracing one another as soon as they're close enough for it. His husband is shaking and Mycroft hugs him tighter, happy beyond description, pleased with his choice of mate, who loves him despite it all and who choose to come back to him.

“We still need to talk,” Gregory murmurs, burying his face against the side of his neck. “I have many questions and I’m still somewhat upset you didn’t tell me the whole truth before we married, but I…” he trails off, gesturing widely. “I love you,” he finishes, looking up at Mycroft and smiling brightly.

“I love you too,” he whispers back, leaning down to press a quick kiss to his husband’s nose, earning himself a happy giggle. “And I’m sorry about not telling you the whole truth. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Yes, I know you will,” Gregory says, standing on his tiptoes so he can press a kiss to Mycroft’s mouth. “But that can probably wait for later.” He smiles mischievously and Mycroft lets out a full bellied laugh, hugging his partner closer.

It seems everything worked out in the end.

 

* * *

 

“Irene told me something very sad,” Greg says later, as he lies curled next to his husband, their heartbeats perfectly synchronized. “Is it true fairies believe love is a children’s tale?”

“Most do,” Mycroft whispers back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “I know for a fact it exists.” He kisses him again, this time on the mouth and Greg grins. “But I also know it’s a rare gift and I intend to treasure it as such.”

Greg nods, a smile on his lips. “So we now live happily ever after?” he asks playfully. Love isn’t always easy, he knows and it’s likely there’ll be some challenges along the road, but he also knows they won’t seem quite as challenging as long as they’re together.

“Sounds like a plan,” Mycroft agrees, cupping his face tenderly, looking at Greg as if he’s indeed something precious. “Forever and ever.”

Yes. It sounds like a very good plan indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s it! We’ve reached the end of our tale!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it and didn’t find the ending overly corny. I do believe in happily ever afters, even if I have yet to witness one IRL. 
> 
> I hope the story overall doesn’t feel rushed; it was a more or less simple story without a lot of angst, which is… unusual for me, to say at least, but I do think it works ;) If you want something a little more angsty but with a hopeful ending, may I point you in the direction of my newest fic, [“Quarter after one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/13809405)” which is a one-shot ;)
> 
> Anyway, as usual, it was a joy to get to share this little tale with you, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thanks to everyone who read/commented/ left kudos/all the above!
> 
> And, on a little side note, in case you’re wondering, the first part of the assessment went well ;) There’s still a long road to travel, but I’m a step closer ;)
> 
> As usual, thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought!
> 
>  

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my native language, so any mistakes you find, please point them out!  
> You can also find me in [tumblr](http://ylc1.tumblr.com/)


End file.
